Discidium
by tayziconable
Summary: Through dividing itself into two beings, the Angel of Massacre will discover what it means to fall. Ash x Angela. Rated for sex and gore. Oneshot.


**A/N: Guess who's back. Back again. Stevie's back. Tell a friend.~**

**Yeah, okay, I'm sorry for that one. xD I'm not the real Slim Shady, you guys. I know, I was shocked too when I found out.**

**Read this thing. Sweet Satan, what have I done.**

_Songs:_

_Everything Burns- Ben Moody feat. Anastacia_

_Hurricane- MSMR_

**Disclaimer: Yana Toboso is cool. I am not cool. Therefore, we can come to the conclusion that I am not Yana Toboso. Deductive reasoning is so reliable~**

**Warnings: Gore and sex. The parts italicized are more inclined to be gory, and the regular sections tend to be sexual. You know, if someone was put off by one or the other and wanted to do some selective reading. x)**

* * *

It was really such a gruesome, unaesthetic process, severing oneself into two separate beings.

The anguish was probably the characteristic most culpable for its rarity; few supernatural beings were eager to physically divide themselves, or to have multiple pieces of themselves manifest as individuals. The snapping of sinews and ripping of skin, the marrow cracking jagged down the center and grinding together as it distorted in shape, the body's form swelling and shifting and contorting as it split into a flawed mirror image. Once a definite fissure branched along the center, every popping joint dislocated and the flimsy skin entirely torn, for a few moments, all that was visible was the shimmer-red of twitching, twisting muscle bursting forth from its confines into two forms, spliced into place by wiry tendons. A terribly hideous and agonizing method, at least until the fresh skin grew over, a crisp bed of porcelain daisies sweeping over the raw carmine soil of a barren countryside. The exhausting birth of two new creatures from one, near-identical and completely bare.

And, although the feat was only temporary, the Angel of Massacre had separated its sexed counterparts, and committed perhaps the worst sin possible. The sin for which the angel itself believed all other crimes had derived from, the very genesis of impurity amongst humanity.

The dividing of the genders.

* * *

_It was a not a spark the angel needed, but a stirring of embers. The stultified scarlet of steaming coals that had existed since the creation of time, before century upon century of the unclean had extinguished the original blaze. It was always assumed the last smoldering embers died out, their cherry glow ebbing away in the cold air, gulped down by the pitch black hollowed out in their wake. Yet no one bothered shuffling through the ash with a stick. _

_A few embers were all they needed._

* * *

Twin sets of lavender eyes appraised their bodies in eerie unison, their complexions sweat-slicked and calla-white, their nude forms supple and strong with immortality. Lithe muscle wrapped around each of their bodies in a statuesque fashion, carved from the finest marble and sharply defined by little skeletal echoes: a protruding collarbone here, a dainty hipbone there. Surreal and beautiful. With time, those placid lilac eyes darkened, something dangerous roiling beneath the surface of that polite disposition; yet on pale purple eyes that unassuming, who would suspect it? That was the problem with creatures of the light, borne in domain over the heavens; if they were crafted to shine in the light, one would never see them approaching in the dark.

Angela was the first to rise; she was slightly shaky at first on those slender legs, feeling as though she'd lost half her strength, yet with a few strides, she quickly noted her weakness dissipating. Was proximity to Ash the key? She slinked towards him purposefully, all of the quintessential loveliness of Eve coupled with the intention of Lilith. And it was quite comparable, with how she hovered dominantly as he raised himself to one knee, his fingers ghosting over the pale flesh of her thigh.

"How is it," Ash began in a slightly facetious voice, grasping her shapely, inhumanly-smooth leg and caressing it softly, "that a creature so beautiful and pure as myself became involved in a practice so dirty as massacre?"

They shared a similar omniscient smirk at the comment, yet the situation was all slightly skewed. Because this division was meant to be short-lived, the rift through the body did not slice through the mind as well, and every word spoken by Ash resonated slightly on Angela's lips; it was a slight quiver, a barely-discernible mouthing of each word. As if it was the condemning, telltale murmur that betrayed a ventriloquist. And who was to say who the puppet was?

Leisurely, Ash pressed a petal-soft kiss to her inner thigh, reveling in how the taut muscle tensed beneath his fingertips, before softly nipping the milk-white flesh with his teeth. His breath washed lightly over her goose-prickled skin, growing more rapid and shallow as he brushed his lips higher, every minuscule hitch in Angela's breathing reflected in his own. Every sensation she experienced, every ounce of warmth coiling in her gut and each jolt of pleasure trickling down her spine, was shared vicariously with him as well, and it heightened his lustful fervor, urging him on. Extending his tongue, he licked languidly along the quivering curve of her leg, encouraged by tender vocalizations, until eventually he was planting vigorous open-mouthed kisses along the skin. Nevertheless, pleased as he was with her shuddering, this tease could not continue forever.

* * *

_There was something lovely about containing a potentially-voracious fire on the wick of a candle in one's palm. The way the tiny amber flame flickered and wriggled, how it lapped like a thirsty tongue, licking its way up the charred wick. How the angel loved how its heat manipulated and melted the very wax that bore it as a host, and how the glistening liquid pooled at the center before overflowing, trickling from waxen lips like hot saliva as that searing tongue laved over it. It loved the sizzling and crackling and snapping that resounded when it encroached its fuel. It loved how that inconsequential little spark, which could have been extinguished in a wisp of breath earlier, swelled with strength once it had the smallest taste of sustenance. It loved how it spread like a fresh wound, blood-stain red with twice the sting. It loved how it scalded and shimmered and swallowed everything in its path, slurping up ornate bed sheets and fragile bodies alike. Fire was hungry, eager to devour, and, once it was offered the scantest fuel, it was unstoppable in its rise to power. Fire was ruthless. And so they would be as well._

* * *

The angel had no affiliation with the will of others anymore; no, it was on a noble, self-assigned mission, likely the most dignified mission of them all, and it took orders from no one. After all, once its goal was completed, it would return to the heavens a war hero for its diligence and steadfast devotion to virtue. There was no morality that could not be paid for with mortality.

Singlehandedly, regardless of who the angel would need to drag down with it and uncaring of humanity's sacrifice, the Angel of Massacre would cleanse the world. Certainly, it was a beautiful dream on its own, a serene utopia of universal benevolence, but now it was possible, with fire as their weaponry. An onslaught of flame could not possibly fail the angel in its machination to begin humanity anew; after all, the prevalent notion was that it was the original source of light; a comforting heat that doused the darkness and uncloaked the eerie beasts that shifted behind the wraithlike shadows.

However, though unintentionally at first, the angel had come to discover that sin does not evaporate; even something incinerated will have ash and smoke to prove its feeble existence. Therefore, it knew what it must do. In order to purge the earth of sin, it would need to take all of the darkness into itself. It would binge gluttonously on the cruelty and corruption of this world, purposefully force sacrilege and defilement down its gullet; for every ounce of impurity swallowed was another inch of clean land for the new hallowed kingdom. Even if the angel itself would be degraded with the noxious filth, it was willing to sacrifice itself for this ultimate aim. To bloat and fatten itself with grime and perversity! And for what? The sake of cleanliness of course.

It was moments like this in which the angel could claim how similar demons were to angels; while the creature had claimed this before, pondering over how the two opposites were identical in essence and will, it seemed they functioned the same as well. Hungry creatures, eager to devour the excess waste of the human race, to eat it all up for some better cause.

What was there to do besides eat? A slightly lupine grin sliced over Ash's regularly calm features, and with a hungry ambition, pressed his lips firmly between Angela's legs, his tongue sliding past his lips and slicking along her lips. Tauntingly, he dragged his tongue, rough with tastebuds, over her sensitive clit; instantly she froze, lacing her fingers through that silver hair, her eyes pinched shut and her mouth slightly agape. That skilled tongue slipped over her again and again, flickering swiftly near the top and laving slowly near her entrance, the heat of it enrapturing Angela; already she felt the stirrings of warmth swelling pleasurably at her core, the shivers tingling across her skin that made her weak at the knees. And he was sucking greedily and roughly at her clit, planting wet kisses along her lips, reveling in the mouthwatering purity of her essence. One of his hands drifted up past her hips to stroke across her firm, supple stomach; the skin was alabaster there, unmarked by freckles that would prove one day spent frivolously under the sun, under the shining orb of fire that blessed life unto this hopeless world. The hand drifted higher, from her twitching abdomen to her heaving chest, where it smoothed over one of her breasts. He grazed the pale pink nipple with one hand, gently kneading the softness underneath his fingertips, feeling that roses-and-cream skin shudder with anticipation.

* * *

_What exactly would happen to the mortals who burnt to death, anyways? What would their sacrifice undergo? They wondered, would they thrash and writhe under the blistering heat? Feverish red welts bubbling on the skin, burned flesh bursting and shriveling. Hoarse shrieks ripping from smoke-dried throats, drowned out by the snap-crackle of sweltering fingers pulling their victims under, smothered by the hissing of wet, peeling skin. Blood boiling, swelling... and swelling... and pop! Rupturing from pustules! Raw, festering wounds that trickled frothy pus. The impurity dribbling away with it, cleansing them._

* * *

To be within one another, to thrust and rut and press past the boundaries of skin, closer, tighter, to be one in union yet to resist the temptation to merge back together. And it _was_ a struggle for those svelte cream-white bodies not to fuse at the seams, to become one creature; did that not add a playful challenge, though, or perhaps a deeper connection? With every snap of his hips, Ash drove deeper into her, relishing in the searing heat between her legs; and she marveled too, in the warmth and sensation of being so stretched, in the swollen head of his erection dragging against that tender spot within her, in the feeling of being so richly ravaged. Sweat sluiced down both of their figures as Ash hammered into her and she rolled and flexed her hips responsively, each of them fully aware of the other's weakness. Yet is it not only sensible for one to know oneself?

A single name, obscenely sanguine, poured from both of their lips as a whisper.

_Sebastian._

No, the angels, as unorthodox as it sounded needed a dose of darker, more indulgent sin; it was not as if they had become addicted to what they loathed, for whilst sin was intoxication to mortals, it was still venom to them. Yet if they were already the equivalent of a gluttonous infant, suckling all of the darkness out of the world, they ought to attempt to obtain the utmost of their role. If they were not the prominent exemplar of sin devoured, then they would become a disappointment— for meandering in a middle ground was far more disgraceful than being the pure essence of something, no matter how dark. Yes, their issue was that it was not tainted _enough_— more corruption, more pungent filth, more vile sin. Yes, they needed it! And who better to bestow it upon them than the hell-born, demeaned demon they had sought alliance with? They already had their champion in sights.

It was all they could do to not imagine Sebastian thrusting rapidly within them, or to envision taking him like a common tart instead, or to visualize any situation in which he would be able to infect them, pollute them with all that he was.

* * *

_No, perhaps that wouldn't happen at all. Maybe every inch of skin would be blackened, charred dry to the bone in a rigid, quivering shell. Would that ashen skin not crack and crumble as it was seared on its bed of ember? Would it not combust, skin splitting down the center with a sickening tear? Bloodied, steaming fluids dribbling over the black char, innards spilling out, pulsing and spasming on the ground. A heave, a twitch, and then collapse, a body melting into its remains. A blackened pool of wet, molten entrails._

* * *

Slowly spiraling down to consciousness, the shudders of recent orgasm still slicing through their bodies and shivering down their thighs, the angels once again began to merge into one; the pair was too exhausted and weak to fight it now.

Yet now, after caving to such a primal, lecherous experience, they understood something which, in the domain of heaven, they had never considered happening to them.

What it felt like to fall.

* * *

**A/N: Speaking of impressive masturbation~ **

**Yeah, I doubt there was a moment in the wake of that story, but if there was, it's been ruined. xD **** I sort of assume that this won't be too popular because no one actually likes the angel, and this is a somewhat-grisly fanfiction about it screwing itself. xD I don't know exactly where the idea for this came from, and ****it was actually a bit disturbing to write, though I attribute that to switching between typing up the sex scenes and editing the italicized portions too quickly. x) **  


**Well... in other news, the epilogue to Incubus is up! I'm doing a continuation of drabbles for Eudemon Everlasting, which, if you haven't read it, you definitely should, because it's likely the most decent piece of fanfiction I've ever written... I also have a Cielois in the works!**

**Please review, kittens! Your words are what keep me going!**


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